SNEEK PEEK!



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It was just another miserably cold February morning. A thick fog hung in the air, distorting my view of the abandoned property ahead. I muttered a curse and turned up the heat. With a small flick of my wrist, my hand rested on my SIG Sauer P320.

I sat in the driver's seat of my truck, hidden from view by a pathetic row of trees that had seen their better days. My eyes surveyed the rugged home before me. At least, what was left of it. The windows were dotted with bullet holes; shingles littered the lawn. The place pretty much embodied the term "desolate."

I was on a stakeout. My first solo stakeout, in fact, since I'd joined the Texas Rangers a little over a year ago. Up until now, my superiors had kept me on major cases, such as The Midnight Case, in which one of our own had had a pretty sketchy side hustle... murdering little girls because they'd looked like me. But recently, crime had dwindled. So here I am, watching an empty house for some bastard who may or may not show up.

The suspect, Thomas Lawrence, had been a person of interest in the recent assault of a fellow Ranger, Josh Parker. Josh had been walking out to his truck after work when he'd been pistol-whipped from behind. Poor guy hadn't even remembered his own name when he woke up in the hospital. But when he had fully regained consciousness and was alert enough to be questioned, he said he'd seen the attacker just seconds before he blacked out. The man was short, stocky, and had brown hair. Paired with a hair fiber found on Josh's shirt by forensics, the evidence definitely pointed to Tom Lawrence.

It helped that the guy had a history of violence against cops.

Just as I saw a man strongly resembling my suspect pull into the driveway across the street, my phone ringing broke the silence. I flinched and unleashed a string of curses as I checked called ID. Lieutenant Bilbrey. There was no ignoring this one. Bilbrey wouldn't call me in the middle of a case unless something was seriously wrong. I clicked answer.

"Ranger Taylor."

"Taylor, where are you?"

"Working the Lawrence case in Whitesboro. Why?What's up?"

The lieutenant's voice was heavy when he finally spoke. "Do you remember Victoria Wells?"

I did. Victoria was an old informant who had helped me crack a case a few months ago. "Of course. What about her?"

"She's dead, Justice."



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Forged in Justice, chapter one excerpt © Shelby Pryor